


In the Bedroom Down the Hall

by ohshititsjay



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Based on a Dear Evan Hansen Song, Child Loss, Cynthia Murphy Is a Good Mother, Cynthia Murphy is grieving, Dead Connor Murphy (Dear Evan Hansen), Family Issues, Family Loss, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Anger Issues, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Light Angst, Nostalgia, One Shot, References to Depression, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 18:45:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14837163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohshititsjay/pseuds/ohshititsjay
Summary: Cynthia sat on Connor’s bed, tears glistening in her eyes as she glanced around her son’s room. The dark grey walls and closed black curtains making the atmosphere even more depressing than it already was. There were boxes scattered around the place, making it feel empty and lifeless. Larry had came in earlier, trying to get her to leave the room, take a break, but she refused. She didn’t want to leave, she didn’t want to take a break. How could she when she felt like this was all her fault? That their son was gone because of her?





	In the Bedroom Down the Hall

Cynthia sat on Connor’s bed, tears glistening in her eyes as she glanced around her son’s room. The dark grey walls and closed black curtains making the atmosphere even more depressing than it already was. There were boxes scattered around the place, making it feel empty and lifeless. Larry had came in earlier, trying to get her to leave the room, take a break, but she refused. She didn’t want to leave, she didn’t want to take a break. How could she when she felt like this was all her fault? That their son was gone because of her?

She forced herself to stand up, holding back a sob as she walked over to the closet. Cynthia opened it, letting a sad smile tug at the corner of her lips. She took down an old sweater she had gotten Connor, running a hand over the dark wool.

_You never liked this sweater. You said it never really fit you right. And it itched too much._

The mother hugged it close to her chest, finally letting her tears slowly make their way down her already tear stained cheeks. She nuzzled her face into the sweater, tears starting to soak through it.

_But I think I’ll keep it. I should  keep it, because it makes me think of you and that little boy that I knew. In the bedroom down the hall._

Cynthia let out a shaky breath and folded up the sweater and placed it to the side. She began to gather the rest of the clothes off the hangers. Her slender fingers delicately folding the clothing and gently placing them into the boxes, sniffling lightly.

_In the bedroom down the hall. We went to battle every evening after dinner. I thought I knew, some way that I’d get through to you. Remember?_

She stopped what she was doing, clutching onto one of Connor’s band shirts as she clenched her jaw tightly. Her body shook lightly as she held back the sobs that threatened to tear through her. When ever she closed her eyes, all Cynthia could see was Connor. The pain in his eyes from his internal struggles. She could hear his screams. His voice lashing out in anger and pain.

  _I_ _n the bedroom down the hall. We fought a war where no one walked away a winner, 'cause every day you pulled a little more away. Remember?_

Cynthia remembered how he would slam that bedroom door. How she could hear him faintly cry, hidden away from everyone else. How the fights became apart of their daily routine. Every fight tore them apart, leaving everyone to suffer through the aftermath. Cynthia forced herself to pack away the last of the clothes, leaving the sweater sitting next to her.

_Saw the counselors and the clinics and the cures a mother tries. Cause maybe they could take away that anger in your eyes._

When she had finished closing up the box that held her son’s clothes, which mostly consist of black ripped skinny jeans, black tee shirts and band shirts, she had made her way over to his desk. She had gone through it, taking everything out and putting them away in the right boxes or just throwing away trash. She had packed away all his sketchbooks, his shading pencils and paints that he had left scattered across the surface. When she had came across the small bottle of escitalopram, she held it in her hand. Her tired eyes scanning the words on the bottle but not being able to process what it said.

She sat down in the desk chair, staring down at the small pill bottle her son’s therapist had prescribed to him. When Connor had gotten them, he got extremely upset. He had screamed at her, and Cynthia let him. She had kept calm and when he was done she had pulled him into a tight embrace. Cynthia was able to convince him to take the medication. It had worked for a little bit but then it all started to go down hill once again.

_Anything to make you happy. Anything at all. Anything for my boy in the bedroom down the hall._

Cynthia held the pill bottle tightly as she finally let it all out. Her sobs filled the once silent room. Cynthia’s body shook violently. She would have done anything to make that boy smile. To see that light in his eyes once again. She would have gave anything to make her boy happy. To see him standing here with her.

_Though you try to give your kid the world. Give him everything you’ve got. What if I gave it all I could and I thought it was enough? But I find that it was not._

She ended up dropping the bottle and wrapping her arms around herself, screaming at the top of her lungs, hot tears spilling down her cheeks. Her fists gripped at her blouse sleeves, hair falling around her face as she down her head. She gave Connor everything she had. It just wasn’t enough and it was tearing her apart.

_Did I let you down?_

Cynthia raised her head, that thought racing through her mind. She brought a trembling hand up to tuck her hair behind her ear. Grief and guilt were taking over her, leaving knots in her stomach that made her want to throw up. She harshly wiped at her tears, taking in deep breaths as she tried to compose herself. At this point, she was glad that she was the only one home so that she wouldn’t worry her husband or their daughter.

 _Everything I ever did, I did it all for you. Anything to make you happy. Anything at all. Anything for my boy in the bedroom down the hall_.

After a little bit Cynthia was able to calm herself down. She wiped the rest of her tears away and stood up, picking up the bottle of escitalopram and placing it back onto the desk. The mother ran her hand through her hair, letting out a deep breath as she did so. She glanced around the room once again, a sad smile resting on her lips. Everything she ever did was for him.

_In the bedroom down the hall._

Cynthia walked back over to where she had left Connor’s sweater, picking it up. She held it close to her chest once again, closing her eyes and remembering all the good things. She remembered how Zoe and Connor would chase each other in the old apple orchard. When Larry had crashed their toy plane into the creek and called it a “emergency landing.” She remembered her kids in the fields, searching for four leaf clovers.

She laughed sadly at the thought of Connor pouting, slightly, when he couldn’t find any so Zoe would hand him all of hers to make him feel better—and it did. A smile blossomed on his face and he gratefully took them from his little sister. Cynthia began to feel nostalgic, wishing she could relive those days when her family was a family. She glanced down at the sweater she was holding, a faint smile on her face.

_I think I’ll wait another day to pack these boxes—cause once I’m through. I’m left with just one thing to do._

She made her way towards the bedroom door, with the sweater in her hands, before glancing back at all the boxes that were piled up and scattered across the room. Cynthia let her body relax, a hand resting on the door knob. She wasn’t ready to put everything away. Because it felt like a piece of her was missing. Like there was this hole in her heart that would never be filled. She closed both of her eyes, taking a deep breath before opening her mouth, a single word ringing out into the room.

_“Remember.”_


End file.
